


Beginnings in Smoke

by midnightair



Category: The Bletchley Circle, The Hour
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightair/pseuds/midnightair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beginnings – and theirs too – are often found among smoke and ashes, falling softly and without notice; sparks of their cigarettes are stubbed out, while the sparks between the two of them grow into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings in Smoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marlenedietriched](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlenedietriched/gifts).



> A while ago I made [a Lix/Millie Crossover AU post on tumblr](http://andforgotten.tumblr.com/post/76654516576/au-crossover-in-which-lix-and-millie-meet-abroad) and I had always sort of intended to write a fic(let) for it. Of course, as I always do, I put it off for 8 months (apparently??), but since it was Rachael's birthday yesterday I finally produced something post-worthy.
> 
> Neither of the characters are mine (what a shame), so do feel free to snatch the pairing up and run with it (as a matter of fact, please DO!)

Beginnings – and theirs too – are often found among smoke and ashes, falling softly and without notice; sparks of their cigarettes are stubbed out, while the sparks between the two of them grow into something more. They hardly notice the warmth, at first. Mistake it (easily) for the whiskey warming their bellies as they meander through simple small talk (as one does, during a first chance meeting). What does register in their consciousness is how similar they seem to think and feel, a sort of sympathy (but nothing more, not yet, they both tell themselves, when recognition of something else does begin to tickle the backs of their minds). The way they laugh in perfect unison, find the same things hilariously funny; the way their heads tilt back, revealing an expanse of skin as their throats shape melodious sounds in the same register.

Later, neither Lix nor Millie can remember what exactly happened in that first fateful night; the things they talked about that moved them so deeply in the moment are wiped clear as soon as they step out of the bar and into the crispy darkness of the night. Breaths shape little clouds as they both tighten the belts of their coats, and raise their shoulders. “How good it is to wear trousers in this weather,” Millie laughs and Lix agrees. Perhaps that was some sort of starting point before, in the murky waters of their introduction. Later they decide that it must have been, and their slacks are infused with extra meaning. Silly, perhaps, for women such as them to bond over these superficialities; but they both have an eye for what’s beneath the surface, as one finds her intelligence echoed in the other’s eyes.

Despite their striking similarities, the differences are there as well. They make what they have (what grows between them at such speed) exciting and extraordinary from the start, while what they have in common forms a good foundation for the rest. They understand each other without words, beginning that first night (he cab they share, giving only one address to the driver). What grows between them feeds off looks and touches.

Routines take no time at all to come into existence for two women who have always deemed themselves difficult to live with, and yet it seems only natural in each other’s presence. It’s little things – a light offered for a cigarette, a glass refilled; it’s questions that need not be asked, invitations (as well as _dis_ invitations) which need not be voiced.

There is a hint of promise in the air as their first encounter leads them into Millie’s home, the apartment feeling even smaller, suddenly, though it’s just the two of them. In the bedroom they take no notice of the cold (the heat turned off all day in order to economize), even as silk blouses slip off shoulders to reveal their naked skin. “You are magnificent,” Lix breaks the silence, fingers reaching out. “So are you,” Millie replies in earnest, yet there’s a laugh behind her words.

What had its beginning in smoke and ashes grows into a steady flame as lips meet and hands explore, knowing instinctively how to tease and where to touch. In crumpled sheets with tangled limbs they both experience a sense of revelation; _where have you been all my life?_ Bliss is on both minds when they share a silent cigarette afterwards, smiles hidden by the dim light on Millie’s nightstand which casts more shade than it illuminates. They share a bed that night; the morning after, Lix departs early and sans breakfast while Millie remains in bed, still half asleep, until the day has almost crept away from her entirely (the joy and luxury of no fixed hours for her work). Lix has left no number and no way to be reached, but Millie knows, breathing out smoke, adding to the fog that’s building up inside her room, that this is not the last she’s seen of Lix.

They meet again – not that night, or the one after; but they do eventually, and everything falls into place.

 

 


End file.
